


Made to be Ruled

by Lovers_Reason



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Dark!Loki, F/M, His brain is a bag of cats, Loki is King AU, Seriously there is no redemption for him here, angry feral cats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:05:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovers_Reason/pseuds/Lovers_Reason
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sif may have a submissive streak. Loki takes full advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story already exists in its entirety at FF.net.

Kneeling in the center of his floor, Loki stared at the crystal, and thought this might well have been the most evil thing he’d ever done. Forget taking over Asgard, killing Fandral, and banishing Thor. This was worse, far worse than any of those, and the thought gripped him with excitement.

He looked down at the focus in his hand, a lock of beautiful black hair. It was his fault her hair was black. He had cut off her beautiful blonde curls centuries ago, when they were just children, and replaced it with dwarf’s hair. And it had been black from that moment forward.

That had been the same day she had first beat him in a fight. It was his revenge. Even then, he had needed to have power over her. Loki craved power, power over everyone, but power over her most of all. The thought of taming such a wild beauty, controlling her, and using her for his own purposes, aroused him far more than simple flesh ever could.

_“_ _Sif, jag befaller dig, buga inför mig. Ta din rättmätiga plats, liggandes vid mina fötter._ ” Loki shuddered. The thought of Sif kneeling at his feet made him harder than iron. _“_ _Ni är mina._ _Din kropp och själ, dina tankar och önskningar, mina. Genom alla Asgårds krafter är din vilja min!_ _”_ He threw the lock of hair down, onto the crystal in the center of the design on his floor. A crack resounded through the air, and the hair went up in smoke.

Loki sat back on his heels. As magic went, he didn’t like this sort very much. Far too flashy, not his style at all. But it was an immensely powerful spell that he was trying to cast, and it required a certain display.

Loki stood, his erection twitching, needing to be dealt with. He rang the bell in his room. It used to summon the king’s manservant, but the staff had quickly learned that when that bell rang, it was not a man that the king wished to see.

Now all he had to do was wait.

~*~

It was days, far longer than Loki expected, before the great oak doors to the royal chambers creaked open to reveal his prize. Sif was flanked by two armed guards, but far from looking like the escaped and re-captured prisoner she was, she seemed entirely indifferent to their existence and as though she had meant to be here all along.

“Ah, and to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“We caught her sneaking into the castle, my lord.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sif snapped. “I walked through the front doors on my way here, and you decided to come with me. Nobody caught anyone.” The guard quailed under her stare. An unarmed woman, a captive surrounded by guards, and a former slave, and Sif still had the power to make a lesser man wince. But when she met Loki’s gaze, she was the one who winced. He could see a tremor in her hands, and knew that she wasn’t nearly as comfortable or as sure of herself as she acted. His eyes sparkled with cold mirth.

“Tell your men to leave so that we may speak privately.”

“Sire, this is an assassination attempt.”

Everyone was silent for a moment as Loki and Sif stared at each other. He sat on an ornate throne on the dais, relaxed, slouched even, and yet somehow still in command of the entire room. Her body language was hostile and defiant, but there was a flicker of pleading in her eyes. Please, they said. Please don’t make me humiliate myself in front of all these people.

“If it is,” Loki said finally, “it is the worst assassination attempt I’ve ever witnessed. You disarmed her, correct?”

“We checked her, my Lord, but she didn’t have any weapons.”

“Assassination attempt indeed. Leave us.”

It was a credit to Loki’s power that not one of his guards or attendants objected. They simply bowed and left quickly and quietly. The instant the final person had shut the door, Sif fell to her knees.

“What have you done to me?” Sif hissed, head almost touching the floor.

“Why my lovely Sif, I’ve no idea what you mean.”

“Don’t lie to me. I would never have come back here of my own free will. And yet here I stand.”

“Kneel, actually, and may I say it’s a very flattering angle. I’m surprised you managed to stay upright in my presence for as long as you did. You’re stronger than I thought, Sif.”

“So it wasn’t enough for you to own my body, you had to own my mind as well. My wills and desires. My… appetites. This is low, even for you, Loki.”

“First of all, the proper address is ‘my lord’, and you will use it. Secondly, I wouldn’t have had to use magic on you if you hadn’t run away. And third, what exactly do you mean about desires and appetites?”

“You should know, my lord.” She managed to make the words sound ironic, even though they were forced from her lips. “It’s your spell.”

“Explain.” The command in his voice was forceful, and she couldn’t help but obey.

“You’ve given me such disgusting thoughts. Made me… want you. I crave your bed and your body. A person’s mind should be their own, but mine is filled with the unnatural urge to please you. Even though I think you’re vile for doing this to me.”

The cavernous room was filled with Loki’s chuckle. “Stand up, Sif.” She did, gladly, and stood still in the middle of the room, staring him down. Mischief in his eyes, as it was so frequently in their youth, he stood and walked to her. She made to back away, but he commanded her to hold still. Slowly, he brought a hand up to grip her chin, tilting her head back and making her look into his eyes.

Underneath the mirth, she could see the smolder of awe-striking power, and it made her shake with want. He released her chin and walked around her, his hand trailing over her jaw and onto her neck, sending a shudder all over her body. She had wanted him for days, ever since she started feeling the effects of his spell, and being in such proximity to him was arousing her on levels she never thought possible. When he pressed his chest to her back, she tried and failed to keep herself from leaning into him. Then he bent down, and his breath ghosted over her ear.

“I’ve got news for you, my dear,” he murmured. “I didn’t do this to you. My magic controls your actions, but it isn’t within my power to control your desires.” He paused to let that sink in. “Delighted to hear it, though.”

Her eyes widened as she realized what a terrible mistake she had made, and the consequences that would undoubtedly result. Her body regained the rigidity it had when she was fighting the spell before, and she pushed away from him, her eyes filled with fear.

“No.”

“Oh, yes. If you want me, it is entirely of your own volition. Some deep-seated reaction to being placed under my control. Could it be that all this time, Sif the Lady Warrior desired nothing more than to be submissive? To surrender herself, body and mind, to a man?”

She hissed and made to lunge at him, but his spell caught her before she could move. He turned his back on her nonchalantly and walked back up the dais, returning to his throne. He considered her: chest heaving, expression angry, but eyes filled with lust.

“So you want to please me, do you?”

“No,” she spat.

“Do not lie. You may never lie to me.”

Once again the command overpowered her. She mouthed wordlessly for a moment, before a strained, “Yes,” escaped her lips. Another moment of fighting, and she finished the sentence, “my lord.”

Loki’s gaze darkened and intensified. “And you shall, my dear. You shall please me in more ways than you could imagine. Come here.” She approached him with obvious ambivalence. When she was standing directly in front of him, he looked her in the eye so she could feel the weight of his next order, even though it was said at barely more than a whisper.

“On your knees.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains rape, and although some characters may not believe that is what is happening, I want to make it clear that any rationalizations written herein are only what I imagine those characters would say, and are not intended to justify anyone’s actions to you, the reader.

Loki fisted a hand tightly in Sif’s hair, forcing her downward with little concern for her comfort or even her need to breathe. When he came, choking her with the force of it, he felt a satisfaction that went beyond the physical. She was his. He finally had all he wanted: respect, power, and complete ownership of the Lady Sif.

She drew away from him, eyes still locked on his with the same strange mix of arousal and hatred she had been showing since she walked in. She moved her mouth like she was about to spit, but his long, thin fingers gripped her by the chin and his thumb pressed to her lips.

“No,” was all he said, but the order was clear. She swallowed.

“You’re a bastard,” she muttered, and then, almost comically, she fought and lost against the compulsion to add, “my lord.”

“Sif,” he replied, in that falsely comforting tone. “You shouldn’t be unhappy. This is your new purpose. Be glad you’ve fulfilled it so thoroughly.”

It didn’t seem like a command. He didn’t voice it like a command. But, with a flash of panic, Sif felt a glow of false contentment taking over her body. It was like a small rational part of her stood terrified, watching the tsunami of Loki’s order drug her mind with pleasure. And then she knew nothing but bliss.

~*~

Sif came to, she knew not how much later, alone in someone’s bed. She shook off the feeling of drunkenness and became conscious of where she was: huge and opulent chambers that could only belong to Loki. She had to admit, the accommodations were much better than the last time she was in Loki’s captivity, but that didn’t change the fact that she was a prisoner.

She knew escape attempts were futile; if she hadn’t been able to stop herself from coming here, she certainly wasn’t going to be able to leave. Indeed, any time she decided to make for the door, she found she couldn’t even move. Instead, she had no choice but to curl up in this huge bed and wait. And think.

She felt intensely confused about her feelings toward Loki. He had said her desire for him was not his doing, and while she wasn’t sure she should believe him, it wasn’t as unbelievable as she would have liked it to be.

Decades, centuries, what seemed like lifetimes ago, when they were all together, were all equal, she had always paid him a special kind of attention. She wouldn’t call it lust, or even affection. But it always seemed like Loki had antagonized her especially, in a playful sort of way, and she had definitely returned the attention in that respect.

And then there was the other thing he had said. This was the reason Sif was inclined to believe him. Because if his magic was at the root of her desire, then how could he have known her most shameful secret?

She had never really considered why her preference for submission was so shameful. Perhaps because if people knew that about her, it would undermine the image she had worked so hard to build. She wanted everyone who thought of her to think _warrior_ before they thought _woman_ , and the knowledge that she willingly allowed men to dominate her in any setting would be damaging to that impression. Until today, she had only ever allowed men she considered extremely honorable to touch her for just that reason.

But now…

Sif was torn. On the one hand, she was _proud_ , in every sense of the word. When Loki had first taken over Asgard, he had had her thrown in prison. He had tried to enslave her using more traditional methods, and though he had failed spectacularly, he had caused her an abundance of pain and humiliation, and so the idea of willingly falling into his bed after that kind of treatment disgusted her.

But on the other hand, by Odin, she _wanted_ him. He was a beautiful man, certainly, but more than that, he was offering her the chance to surrender entirely. The truth was, she preferred to be submissive in bed because the way she lived her life was _hard_. It took constant effort just to be taken seriously as a female warrior; it took constant maintenance of her emotional armor. The times she could lay under a man and allow him to take charge were the only respite she got from that. And Loki was offering her a chance to live that way permanently, without guilt.

But then every time that she began to contemplate laying down arms and taking the easy way out, her iron core, the part of her that had allowed her to take beating after beating at the hands of her sparring partners and continue to stand up and keep working, reacted with such force that her head spun. He had taken her freedom, and to submit to him would mean surrendering the last of her dignity.

Sexual pleasure, the relief of capitulation, the avoidance of Loki’s brutal side, were these things really worth her self-respect? Could she live with herself afterward if she gave in to him? And when it came down to it, would she be able to resist?

~*~

Sif was still contemplating this when Loki entered the room, his sharp eyes taking far too much pleasure at the sight of her in his bed.

“How do you like your new chambers?” he asked

“The most comfortable prison I’ve ever been in, my lord.”

“Ah,” he said, his eyes narrowing. Then he swept over to the side of the room and began undressing while he continued to talk to her. “I had hoped that if I left you to your thoughts for a time, you would come to see that your situation is not an undesirable one. Sif, you will never want for anything again. You are completely free to come and go as you please within this palace, as long as you serve me well.”

She was captivated, watching as he stripped down to a high-collared tunic and trousers. But his last words shook her from her daze, and she gladly let her anger rise to the surface again, to keep her grounded.

“And what if it is the idea of serving you that I find undesirable, my lord?”

He was almost completely undressed when he turned back to her with a wicked smile. “But you have already admitted that that is not the case, my dear. You will enjoy my bed, and my touch, and I daresay you will even enjoy bearing my sons.”

The idea of children had not even crossed Sif’s mind, and now the anger she had welcomed a moment ago began to choke her.

“So not only do you mean to rape me—“ she began, but he interrupted her somewhat forcefully.

“I do not rape. I prefer women begging _for_ my touch, not the opposite. Why do you think I never laid a hand on you for the months I kept you in prison?”

Her next words may have been unwise, but since he had forbidden her to lie, this was her first opportunity to retaliate against her indignities, and she was not about to pass it up.

“You were afraid of me, my lord.”

She was gratified with an angry look, but it only lasted a moment before he had arranged his face back into regal calm. “Why should I have been afraid of a single unarmed woman in my prisons?”

“Because you cannot overpower me physically. You know I would have fought to the death to preserve my honor. So instead you incapacitate me with magic like the coward you are.” She was glad they were having this conversation. With every word her resistance of him grew stronger, her willingness to surrender diminished.

But then he lunged at her, and instead of the blow she was expecting, he kissed her. It was a hard kiss, with teeth nipping and tongues sliding together, and Loki was bearing her down into the bed, one hand supporting him while the other gripped her hip possessively. It was a kiss of dominance, of ownership, and despite Sif’s wishes, she once again found herself panting with desire. Loki withdrew and observed her with delight.

“Now why would I need magic,” he murmured, “when a simple touch reduces you to such a raw state? What happens here tonight will not be rape, Sif. You want me. You have told me so, under circumstances where you could not lie. The only thing keeping you from giving your consent is pride, a vice you would be infinitely happier without. If you consider this rape, it is no fault of mine.”

Before Sif could come to terms with what Loki was saying, he waved his hand and caused her clothing to disintegrate, distracting her with the shock of skin on skin. She clamped her mouth shut against a moan, determined not to give him that satisfaction, and when another minute of attentions to her body elicited no response, he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, causing a tiny sound of pain.

“Perhaps I should rephrase.” His voice had a vicious edge now. “I am capable of deriving pleasure from either your pleasure or your pain. If you do not give me one, I will resort to the other.”

His words gave her a thrill of fear and an arousal that sickened her a bit if she allowed herself to dwell on it. Instead, she allowed the grip she had kept on herself to release with a sigh of relief, and brought her hands up to bury in his hair, pulling his talented mouth to hers.

Loki took a surprisingly long time with her, relishing every gasp and moan. His mouth went to her breast and his long fingers found her core, working inside her until she was slick with arousal. His skin was surprisingly cool against hers, and she found she enjoyed the sensation immensely. Finally, when he had brought her to the edge of release, he withdrew, putting enough distance between them to flip her onto her stomach.

His teeth sunk into her shoulder at the same time as he thrust into her, making her cry out louder still. As he worked in her, those fingers she appreciated more with each passing moment found her clit, rubbing circles in time to his thrusts.

Both of them were approaching climax quickly, and he with a halting voice Loki commanded her, “Say you are mine.”

“I am yours,” she agreed, in a voice that became a moan. Those simple words were more than Loki could bear, and he peaked, thrusting erratically as he rode out an earth-shattering orgasm.

Maybe it was that same sentence that reawoke Sif’s unwilling side. Whatever it was, if calling Loki a coward had been unwise, the next word she uttered was the stupidest thing she had ever said. But as he brought her to an orgasm immediately following his own, her last shred of defiance caused her to cry out:

“Thor!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter, and there's no sex, so if that's all you're reading for I recommend you stop now. Things are about to get really upsetting.

The noise that Loki made was genuinely frightening. He grabbed Sif by the shoulder with one hand, turned her over and backhanded her as hard as he could. Rage twisted his features, and she was sure he was going to hit her again, but then he was gone, suddenly, disintegrating into thin air.

Fear churned at Sif’s insides as the minutes dragged on, the silence in the room eerie. After a short while Loki reappeared with the same startling suddenness he had vanished with. He was fully clothed again and standing across the room silently, anger and power crackling around him despite a near-expressionless face.

Silence stretched between them for an immeasurable amount of time, as though he were expecting her to throw herself at his feet and beg for mercy. Never. She had seen, had felt Loki at his most brutal, with knives and instruments of torture in his dungeons, and she would much rather that than of the constant internal war and the possibility that she might give in. She could take physical pain. All she wanted now was for him to say something, to end the suspenseful silence.

“Tell me truthfully, Sif,” he said, his eyes colder than any she had ever seen. “Were you imagining that I was my brother as I touched you? Did you imagine my bumbling idiot of a sibling could make you cry out as I did? Or did you call his name deliberately to anger me?”

At this point, with Loki so unbalanced, there was no telling which answer would be worse. She desperately wanted to say it was the former, to twist the knife in deeper, but he had commanded her to speak the truth.

“It was only to stoke your ire, my lord,” she answered, dropping her gaze. Another span of silence stretched between them.

“It worked.” The words dropped from his lips like icicles, and Sif decided in that instant that this had been a mistake. Never in all the times he had tortured her had Loki looked so angry. “And now you will understand what that truly means, and believe me, Sif, when your punishment is over you will never cross me again.”

Loki began to pace, very slowly, clearly scheming. Finally, he stopped and turned toward her, fixing the same icy glare on her.

“Do you love Thor, Sif?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Why?”

“He was my dearest friend, my lord. He and I lived and laughed and fought together for centuries.”

“And how does it make you feel to know you will never see him again?”

Terrible. A painful lump rose in Sif’s throat at the thought. She had mourned for Thor in her own way months ago when he was lost to Earth, but being reminded of it so cruelly caused her more pain than she was willing to let on.

“Upset, my lord.” Loki considered this silently for a while.

“And is there anyone that you love more than Thor?”

“My own brother, my lord.”

“Ah yes, Heimdall. Good. I am glad that there is someone else. It would be unwise for me to do my worst now, when I mean for you to spend the rest of eternity under my control.”

Cryptic though they were, his words frightened her, and when it looked like he was going to let another period of silence go on, she couldn’t help but speak. She focused all her energy in keeping a tremor of fear out of her voice.

“My lord, what do you plan to do?” He looked at her sharply.

“You used Thor to anger me. I am going to make sure you never do it again. I am going to take him from you.”

“You have already done that, my lord.”

He smiled a cruel, mirthless smile. “True, you no longer possess him in the flesh. But you have memories. Centuries of precious memories, of love and affection and all the other things you feel for my brother. And I am going to take those away.”

Sif felt like her stomach had vanished from her body, leaving a vacuum in her midsection that made her want to collapse inward. She choked on a sob.

“You’re going to make me… forget Thor?”

He smiled again, clearly glad to see her react so intensely.

“Not entirely. Because then you would not know what you had lost, and what sort of punishment would that be? No, I am simply going to take away the memories you have of him. You will still know he exists, you will remember this conversation, you will remember how you felt and that you loved him. But you will not be able to remember why. His existence in your mind will cease. Every fight, every joke, every kind word, every touch will be gone.”

Sif realized she was crying, something she had not done since she was a child. She had tragically underestimated Loki. She had no idea something this cruel, this vindictive was inside him; even as he had caused her writhing agony she had never imagined he would be capable of this. He came over to the bed, standing over her naked, crying form.

“Do you see, now, Sif? Do you see why you should not anger me? And if you ever show that sort of defiance again, I will do the same for your brother. And your parents, your friends, our children, once you have them. If you continue to resist me, I will chip away at your memories until nothing is left of you but me. Until the only thing you know is how badly you want to please me. You think you’re enslaved now? You know nothing of slavery.”

There was nothing Sif could think of but to give Loki what he wanted. And there was no question of what he wanted.

“Please,” she whispered. “I am sorry I tried to hurt you.” She got out of bed and knelt, naked and shivering, at his feet. “I’m begging you, my lord, Loki, do not do this. Anything but this.”

She heard a smile in his voice. “You see, if you had only surrendered earlier, this could have been avoided. Do you see how your pride, your wish for freedom, has led to this pain? You could have been mine from the beginning, but instead you force me to use my powers to break your will, to make you desire me, to rob you of the man you love.”

Sif was so caught up in the pain of his threat, she almost missed the other soul-piercing fact he had slipped in there.

“You… made me…”

“Ah, yes, I lied when I said your wanting me was not my doing.” She felt invisible, magical hands picking her up off the floor so she was standing facing him. He stroked fingers down her jawline. “Just another part of the spell I have placed on you. Honestly, Sif, if I had the power to drug you with contentment just by uttering the words, ‘Be glad,’ do you honestly think a little sexual desire was beyond my means? I thought that perhaps an easy, encouraging touch would inspire your surrender. But clearly I was wrong.”

She opened her mouth, false protestations on her lips, but he would not let her get them out. “Hush,” he said, his tone again falsely comforting. “It’s too late. Sleep now, and know that when you wake, a part of you will be gone forever.”

Her body responds to his order and Sif is asleep almost instantly, but not before a few more tears slip down her cheeks.

~*~

The pain Sif woke to was far sharper than she was expecting. She felt as though part of her chest had been hacked out cruelly with a dull blade, and she had no idea why. Someone… Loki had said… Thor. Once she landed on the name, she remembered their conversation: _“You will remember that you loved him. But you will not be able to remember why.”_

It was definitely the strangest thing she had ever felt, such pain over someone she couldn’t remember. She remembered how she had felt when he had been banished. She remembered some non-specific time when she had felt an immense amount of affection for this man, but she knew nothing about him. She had lost over a thousand years of precious, beautiful memories. Of small, simple things. Of hugs and smiles and jokes. Of the million tiny interactions that make up love. She knew that they had happened, felt their effects even now, and being unable to access them was agonizing.

And even as she was trying to cope with that feeling, the other revelation from the night before hit her. _“I lied when I said your wanting me was not my doing.”_ He had lied. He had lied, and she had believed him, and under that pretense she had allowed him, welcomed him into her body. He had raped her. And even worse, he would continue to rape her, probably until the day she died.

She was curled up against the headboard now, arms wrapped around her knees in an attempt to shield herself from the devastation. If she did not submit to him now, he would take away all her loved ones the same way he had taken away Thor. Crying again, she began to go through those memories, the ones she had never known she could lose. Her choices were this or suicidal thoughts, and she was still sorting through every one, almost obsessively—the times her brother had taught her to fight, the feeling of her mother brushing her hair—when a serving girl entered the chambers.

The girl curtsied and approached her.

“Your Highness, his Majesty the King sent me to see to your needs. Would you like a bath?” Sif only stared at her. It had been only a day since the last time she had seen anyone aside from her captor, her tormentor, her rapist. Only a day, but she felt like she was an entirely different person than she had been twenty-four hours ago.

When she did not respond, the maid tentatively said, “Your Highness?”

Her eyes snapped to the girl. “Why do you call me that?” The girl curtsied again, afraid to have caused offense.

“You are the queen, are you not? That is what I was told.” Sif stared at her emptily.

“I suppose I am,” she said, her voice dead. The girl looked worried. Sif shook herself, tried to sound more alive. “But I would prefer to be addressed as a lady, not a queen, if you could.”

“Of course, my lady, if that makes you more comfortable, but I’m afraid His Majesty wouldn’t like it.” Something in the tone of her voice made Sif really look at her for the first time. She was young and pretty. And trembling. She suddenly realized that this girl must understand the terror of Loki’s wrath almost as well as she did. What a different place Asgard was now, where maids and queens alike were abused by their master.

“Then by all means,” Sif said in the kindest voice she could muster, “When the king is around, do what you must to avoid his attention.”

The girl was clearly surprised that she would be so candid. Everyone in the castle must still be behaving like nothing was wrong.

“Thank you, my lady,” she said quickly. “Would you like your bath now?”

~*~

Sif found the bath blessedly comforting. Her emotional pain was still raw and intense, but the warm water did soothe her physical aches and help to wash away her body’s memories of its trauma. The same ladies’ maid returned with an armful of towels, and when she rolled up her sleeves to assist in the bath, Sif got a shock.

The girl’s arms were covered in bruises. Bruises in the shape of hands that Sif recognized, hands she was intimately familiar with. She caught the girl’s wrist gently.

“Did the king do this to you?”

The maid tugged her arm away. “Please, my lady,” was all she said, not looking Sif in the eye. Then, she turned and began pumping water into the tub, even though it was nearly full. Under the sound of the water, she whispered to Sif, “Loki has listening spells everywhere. Three court attendants have already been executed for slander. Please speak carefully.”

“Did Loki touch you?”

“For many months now the king has looked to female members of his staff to satisfy him. It is not so bad, my lady. We all rotate, I just happen to have been the one summoned most recently.” The water stopped flowing and the servant moved away.

That bastard. He had told her… he had said… _“I do not rape.”_ She shook herself. She had to stop being surprised by his lies. If this was to be her life, she would have to begin every conversation she had with Loki by assuming he was lying. That was the only way she was going to survive. And as she looked at her new maid, she knew that that was her only option. To survive. Suicide was not an option, not when she might protect people from Loki’s hands by living. Not when she might be in a position to alleviate some of the burden of Loki’s rule. Not when this sweet girl would be once again at the mercy of Loki’s evil without her around.

“What is your name?”

“Dagny, my lady.”

“Well, Dagny, I am glad to have met you. You have been very kind to me. And I will do everything in my power to protect you from _anyone_ who would do you harm.”

~*~

A year later, Sif sat regally in the great hall of the palace, her belly round with her first child. They were having a celebration of her pregnancy, and her husband—she still shuddered when she thought the word—was up and about, mingling with the court. He swept over to her, hands burying in her hair and caressing her shoulders as though he really loved her—as though he were capable of love.

“Are you not eating, my dear? Here, try the quail, it’s delectable.” He motioned a server over with the dish and set it in front of her.

“Eat,” he commanded, and then whisked away again. Fortunately, he was gone too fast to notice her hands clenched in her lap, or her face set in internal struggle.

Extremely fortunately, he also did not hear the single word that Sif whispered.

_“No.”_


End file.
